“‘Tom-Tom, the piper’s son,
Took a pig and away he run.
The pig was eat, and Tom was beat,
And he went roaring down the street.’
“That’s how it is in the book,” went on Tom-Tom. “Only it isn’t exactly right. I didn’t do any roaring, though I may when I get the beating. It’s the pig who is doing the roaring.”
“It sounds more like squealing,” said Uncle Wiggily.
“Yes, you could call it that,” said Tom-Tom, as he looked at the pig under his arm, which cried louder than before. I mean the pig squealed, not Tom-Tom’s arm.
“But look here,” said Uncle Wiggily. “You should not have taken this pig. That’s quite wrong you know, Tom-Tom. Besides, Mother Goose is after you. I just met her, and she started to tell me about some of her friends being lost. She asked me to help look for him—or her—but before she could tell me who it was, she was called away. It must have been you she meant.”
“It was,” said Tom-Tom. “I had to run after I took the pig, but the funny part of it is I can’t find any street to run down, as the book says I did. It’s all woods around here; no streets at all. I’d run with the pig down the street, fast enough, if I could find one.”
“No, no! You mustn’t do that,” said Uncle Wiggily. “You only go down the street after the pig was eat, or eaten, to be more correct. Besides, you ought not to take the pig at all.”